


All You Had To Do Was Ask

by TheRealNightTempest



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Derek Feels, Derek makes it better, Fluff, Going to college, Hurt/Comfort, Lydia has a plan, M/M, Misunderstandings, Prom, Stiles has a minor freakout, prom date, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-27
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-02-22 19:48:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2519660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRealNightTempest/pseuds/TheRealNightTempest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is slightly in love with Derek.  Lydia coerces Stiles to ask Derek to the prom under the pretense that Derek had already agreed.  Derek didn't agree at all.  After being rejected and humiliated, Stiles tries to cope with all the changes happening around him by putting some distance between himself and the pack.  Derek didn't agree to that either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All You Had To Do Was Ask

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there!
> 
> I have no idea where this story came from, so excuse the randomness and enjoy. ;)

Stiles had asked twelve people to prom.  Each invitation became more awkward than the last because he was losing all hope of someone saying yes.  When Elise Tanner, a junior who spent all of her time in the art room to escape torment turned him down, Stiles sighed and nodded.  He accepted right then and there that he would have to go with all of his friends, who had dates within the pack, and be the black sheep to their high school perfection.

Or maybe he didn’t have to go at all.  Sure it was a rite of passage, a milestone of his senior year and the last event before graduation.  But what fun would it be to sit at the table like a loser while everyone had a great time around him?

None at all.

The bell rang after his last class and Stiles figured he could escape to his jeep without anyone the wiser.  Instead of successfully sneaking away from his group of friends, he found Lydia standing by his passenger door, leveling him with a knowing look.

“I’ve tried every available person I could think of to take you to prom and no one took the bait.”  She gave him an icy stare.  “So either you have an STD or you’ve done something absolutely terrible in a past life.”

Stiles kept his head down, biting his lip as her words sunk in.  Everywhere around him his classmates poured into the parking lot and he felt all the more self-conscious being seen with Lydia Martin.  Because no one would believe him if he said they were friends.  Most likely they just saw the nerdy lacrosse benchwarmer cornering the prettiest girl in school and thought about beating the crap out of him for bothering her.

What was worse was being such a loser that Lydia felt the need to get him a date using her status since she felt sorry for him.  That hurt the most.

“Maybe it was because I was born,” he mutters.

“Oh, knock it off.  Self-deprecation doesn’t suit you.”  She rolls her eyes and tugs on his elbow, heels clicking away from the jeep.  “Luckily I have a backup plan and you’re going to try to run for the hills, but unfortunately for you I’m taking you hostage and you’re going whether you like it or not.  It’s time for this particular song and dance to end.  So call it two birds with one stone if you like.”

That doesn’t sound good to him.  Stiles yanks his arm back.  He puts all his weight into standing in place, refusing to let her lead him any further.  “Lydia, thanks I guess for trying to _make_ someone go to the prom with me, but we all know it’s a lost cause.  And I think…I think I’m gonna skip the dance.”

Lydia gapes at him like he’s crazy.  In her world, the senior prom is the ‘be all or end all’ of events.  The dress, the coordinating tux, the flowers, the makeup and their group all have to be perfect.  And for Stiles to put a damper on her glorious plans by being the odd man out is just not done.  He can see it in her eyes once she pictures her dream not coming to fruition.  She narrows her eyes.  Her mouth pulls tighter than Allison’s quiver before she makes a kill shot.

“Yep.  I’m not going,” he simplifies.  “But thanks for thinking about me.  I, uh, appreciate it?”

“You _are_ going to that prom.”

“Nope.”  He shakes his head.  “Don’t think I am.”

“Oh really?”  She smirks, eyes all squinty and mouth shaped in a frightening grin.  “Then I guess you’ll have to explain to Derek why you stood him up.”

Stiles’ brain has a second to explode before piecing itself back together.  “What!?”

“That’s right.  While all of us common teenagers are taking our equally average dates, Derek Hale will be your escort.  And we all know there is nothing average about that man.”  Lydia looks like the fucking Grinch—plotting, more than a bit sociopathic.  “So I suggest you get in, let me drive you to the loft, and then you can ask him properly because it’s the least he deserves.  He never went to prom, you know?  It’s only right to give him the full experience.”

Stiles imagines it in his head.  The object of his desire for the past two years, hanging off his arm like victory made physical.  Everyone gawking as he walks Derek into the gymnasium, jealousy filling their rapt faces.  And all the while, Derek stares into his eyes like Stiles is everything he’s ever wanted.  Like he’s perfect to him and no one else matters.

It’s all Stiles has ever wanted.  Derek Hale holding his hand for all the world to see.  To be right where he belonged at Derek’s side.

All he’s ever wanted was to be wanted.

So excuse the hell out of him for being a bit skeptical, since up until this moment Derek has never showed one ounce of interest in Stiles.  In fact, Derek treats Stiles like a nuisance, an obnoxious necessity to their band of misfits, for he’s the only one that tethers Scott to Derek’s pack.  Not that he’s crucial to Derek for all of the invaluable aid he’s provided the pack with his research, their constant use of his getaway jeep, the cleaning of blood and wounds, and his shoulder to cry on.

  1.   Up until now Stiles has been tolerated by Derek, irritably sighed at often, and told to shut up on countless occasions.



So he eyes Lydia up and down once his well-crafted fantasy loses air and reality finds its way back to him.  “You’re lying.”

Lydia clucks her tongue.  “Stiles, when have I ever lied to you?—especially about something like this, something that really matters to you.  Never.  That’s when.”

It’s true.  Lydia can be a bitch sometimes, but she wouldn’t purposely set him up for heartbreak, would she?  But seriously, Derek Hale agreed to go to prom with _him_?  It’s too far out of reach for Stiles to comprehend.

“But why would he say yes?  Derek hates me.”

“Derek owes you a thousand times over.  Just take it for what it is, a date to prom and a couple of hours to show him who you are beyond the guy with his head in a book, and maybe he can appreciate you the way the rest of us do.”

She meets him halfway in the realm of reality.  Derek had agreed but not because he liked Stiles back, just because he owed Stiles.  Didn’t stop Stiles from being secretly excited inside.  Okay, well not so secret because he was totally smiling.  And Lydia was rolling her eyes again like, duh, loser boy.

And his excitement wasn’t even killed when Jackson snarled at him because Stiles tried to ride shotgun.  He had no idea Jackson was coming with them, but it didn’t matter, he had a date to prom.  Derek Hale was going to take him to prom!

“What the hell are you smiling at, Stilinski?  Christ, if I didn’t think you were a psycho before…”  Jackson shouts after Lydia cuffed upside the head and resumed driving.

Stiles bit his lip all the way to Derek’s loft.  Fuck Jackson.  Thank the universe for Lydia.  And gods bless Derek Hale.

***

Derek opened the door to the three of them.  He looked them over, motioned them inside and disappeared up the stairs to presumably put on a shirt.  He was sweaty.  The entire place smelled of Derek’s sweat and natural scent, and fuck if Stiles didn’t try with all of his might not to think about Derek’s glorious abs.

Jackson was already scowling at Stiles, so he knew he hadn’t been all that successful, but what was he supposed to do?  Ignore the almighty shirtless Adonis that had been working his muscles for the better part of the afternoon?  Stiles was seventeen for crying out loud.  He wasn’t perfect.

Lydia arranged herself at the bar, pulling out schoolwork and tapping the seat next to her for Jackson to sit.  She had her wolf trained well, because Jackson gave up the glaring contest he had going with Stiles and joined her.

That was when Stiles realized he’d have to face Derek, ask him to prom even though he already knew the answer, with Jackson watching the entire time.  Stiles rubbed his clammy palms together, snapping his fingers, his knee constantly bouncing.  He looked over his shoulder.  Yep.  Jackson was still watching him, an evil cast to his eyes and his trademark smugness curling at his lips.

Stiles whipped back around.  He gasped, putting a hand to his heart as he found himself face to face with Derek.  “Fuck!”  Stiles screeched.  “Do you have to creep like that?  Oh my god…”

Derek being Derek ignored his whining entirely.  “What are you all doing here?  I never agreed to host some afterschool study group.  I’m the alpha and this is my home, not your playground.”

Stiles looked down at his hands because he couldn’t take the way Derek was looking at him.  He was okay with it on every other day except for this on because this time things were different.  He wasn’t here to trade quips with Derek, argue with him about the Alpha’s stupid plans and find the holes in them.  Wasn’t here to offer monster of the week information or perform lifesaving first aid.

He was supposed to ask Derek a question, although Derek didn’t seem to want him to be here at all.

Stiles chanced a look at Lydia, but she kept her back to him instead of encouraging him.  He nearly choked on his next breath.

“Hello? I’m waiting for a reason for this, whatever this is.”  Derek lifts his hands and Stiles has to count to ten in his head.  “Stiles!”

“What?”

“Why. Are. You here?”

For the first time in a long time Stiles had trouble finding words, speaking at all, and he opened his mouth a few times in attempt, but nothing came out.

“What’s wrong with him?”  Derek asks of the other two.

Jackson snorts.  “I’d be the richest man in the world if I had the answer to that.”

Stiles doesn’t have a comeback for Jackson.  He’s slowly zoning out, hiding behind the numbness that consumes him right before a panic attack. He can’t do this.  He won’t make Derek take him to some dumb prom if he can’t even enjoy it for Stiles’ sake; can’t even stand to be in the same room as him.

Stiles just cannot do this.

“Stiles?”  This time it’s Lydia and she sounds concerned.  “You were going to ask Derek something?”

Stiles shakes his head.  He can’t.  This is dumb.  He should leave.  Derek doesn’t want him and Stiles won’t pretend to play along for Lydia’s bigger picture.  It’ll only end with Stiles hurt and Derek walking away from something a prom date isn’t.

Lydia groans.  “Derek, he wants you to take him to the prom.”

Stiles registers what Lydia said before Derek is staring at him like he’s a flesh eating bacteria infesting his loft.  “What?”  He asks like someone would say gross with the utmost hatred behind it.

Jackson is cackling with laughter.  “Holy shit!  You sink to new lows every day, Stilinski.  First you try half the school, and when they turn you down for being a total loser, you try him?  Are you kidding me?  Look at your face!”

Stiles is wholly incapacitated.  His eyes meet Lydia’s, seething with her betrayal.  Derek had no idea about any of this.  Derek’s  face pretty much sums that up.  How could Lydia do this to him?

Stiles shakes from head to toe.  His eyes water and his skin grows hot.  Lydia’s mouth is moving; her gestures frantic as she hops off the stool to come to his aid like she didn’t start this entire fucking thing.

Stiles finds the will to stand.  He can’t look at Derek, but he’s pretty sure the Alpha is trying to say something to him too.  Stiles recoils from where Derek tries to touch him.  He nearly trips Lydia trying to get to the loft door.

“Stiles,” she cries.

Stiles narrows his eyes at her.  He says the only the thing he knows at the moment: the truth.  “I hate you.”

She gasps.  Her eyes are the last thing he remembers before he slams the door shut, sealing off his worst nightmare on the other side.

He leaves the loft, somehow finds his way home and has no idea how he got there.  His dad is working a double.  The house is empty.  Stiles locks the door behind him and spends the rest of the night curled into a ball in bed.  He stares at his bedroom window, thankful he remembered to lock it tight.

***

Stiles doesn’t go to prom.  He doesn’t join in the after parties even though Scott and Allison begged him.  Lydia leaves him countless voicemails, a few where she’s legitimately sobbing for forgiveness.  Derek texts him once.  Something about wanting to talk, but Stiles tries to forget Derek exists.  He reasons Derek will be grateful for Stiles doing him a favor and bowing out before Derek had to begin the painful task of talking feelings.

Or yelling at Stiles.  Most likely that’s how talking would end up.

A few weeks later Stiles walks across the stage at graduation to the entire pack cheering even louder than his dad and Melissa.  Stiles notices Derek wedged between them, looking straight at him.  Stiles looks away.  He accepts his diploma, goes back to his seat, and loses himself between two of his classmates who could care less about him than Derek did.

His dad takes him to the nicest restaurant in town, tries to coax something like a smile out of him, and Stiles plays along for his dad’s sake, but the moment they get home, he goes to his room and shuts the door.

Two weeks later he has to clean out his inbox, his voicemail, the actual mailbox.  All of them have overflowed with invites to pack movie nights, summer bonfires, things he’s missing out on, people demanding he show his face or return their damn calls.  That’s how he finds his summer orientation packet from Beacon Hills Community College in the mailbox.

He doesn’t open it for a week.  It reminds him how he got in to four very good schools in state, but how he can’t afford a single one of them.  His dad has medical bills, bills in general, and his salary isn’t what a sheriff’s should be.  Stiles doesn’t tell his dad about the other school acceptance letters or the financial aid denial ones.  He burns them in the woods one night.  He refuses to cry about things he can’t change.

Instead, he acts like he wants to go the community college.  It was his dream school, he tells his dad.  It’s the right fit.

His dad doesn’t seem convinced, but he plays along like both of them do.  They’re good at sweeping problems under the rug to survive.  It’s their way of things.

Scott is busy with Allison and his job at Deaton’s come summer.  He’s still a good friend and one of the only people Stiles trusts, but his infrequent visits aren’t enough to distract Stiles from the embarrassment, the shame, the slow slide into a place Stiles never wanted to be.

Stiles sits alone night after night and wonders how excited Scott must be to go to UCLA in the fall.  He bitterly thinks about how Scott would have never pulled the grades to get in if it weren’t for Stiles.

Life was unfair.

***

Scott does, however, manage to trick him into driving over to Derek’s by telling him it’s a life or death emergency a few weeks later.

Stiles finds the loft empty except for Derek.  The Alpha is hunkered down over his coffee table with a ton of real estate brochures fanned out around his laptop.  Stiles spins in a circle, making sure no one else was waiting around with a gunshot wound that needed tending, or that no one lurked in the corner to ambush Stiles with an intervention.

The silence and lack of pack was eerie.  He stood there staring like an idiot.

“Would you sit down already?”  Derek’s voice makes him jump.

“No.”  Stiles takes a step back into the safety of the doorway, his only escape from whatever this might turn out to be.

“Stiles.”  Derek sighs.  “Would you please take a seat?”

“You never say please.”

Derek looks at him.  Stiles can’t read his face.  He doesn’t want to anymore because Derek will always be beautiful, but not inside where it counts. Once upon a time Stiles was sure Derek was an amazing person deep down, and with Stiles’ help and loyalty, Derek would let Stiles in.

The illusion of that had been shattered, witnessed, and mocked mercilessly.

“I need to talk to you.”

Stiles shakes his head.  “You can’t stand talking to me.  So what is it this time, Derek?  Wanted me to race over here so you could rub it in my face how much you hate me?  Want me to realize my place, that I’m a joke to you people, and that my feelings are second to the twisted torture you find so hilarious?  No thanks.”

“Sit down,” Derek commands.

Something in Stiles snaps.  He breaks his month long silence because he can’t take it anymore.

“I don’t do what you tell me to.  I am not one of your fucking wolves on a leash, Derek.  In fact, I don’t have any reason to be here at all anymore.  I’m not stuck here because I need a pack.  I’m not some creature of the night or a hunter or a banshee, so I’m not really of interest to you anyhow.  I’m just the token human, and now that I understand that, I can start my life without the compulsive need for your attention.  Do you hear me?  I don’t need you anymore.  So just…let’s be done, okay?”

Derek is in front of him in a blink.  The loft door has shut somehow with a loud shiver of metal echoing throughout the loft.  Stiles tastes his own fear, his want for Derek that will never go away, and almost loses it when Derek takes him by the arm and forces him towards the couch.

“I never told you no!”

Stiles blinks.  He holds his breath, staring up at Derek like he’s about to be eaten alive.  He shouldn’t have said it.  The leash thing was too much.  Derek is going to kill him slowly.

“I…I never said I wouldn’t go with you.”

“What?"

Derek scrubs a hand over his face.  He puts a hand on his hip and starts to pace.  “Would you…would you please sit down, Stiles?”

His request is so quiet, so broken, Stiles is compelled to dance past Derek and huddle in a corner of the couch.  The way Derek’s gaze lands on him, the stillness of his body, a predator momentarily warring with his human side is something Stiles has never seen in Derek.

It’s all very black and white to Derek.  Kill or be killed.  Stay or get out.  Say it or shut up.  So to see Derek unsure if he can explain something to Stiles, thinking past his short everyday vocabulary for Stiles’ sake, is terrifying and yet very curious.

“Derek?”

“I’m sorry you missed the prom,” Derek settles on.  “If it helps… I mean, from my standpoint I didn’t really miss much not going to mine, but I know it meant something to you.”

“I don’t want to talk about this with you.”

“You want to talk about everything.  Why not this?”

“Because there’s nothing to talk about.  Lydia set me up.  I humiliated myself.  The way you looked at me, Derek…  I can’t talk about this.”

“I didn’t know, Stiles.  I’m sorry.”

Stiles trains his gaze on his lap as he feels Derek sit next to him, his natural body heat pushing against Stiles’ side like it’s meant to lure him closer.  Stiles shakes his head.  “It was just the icing on the cake, Derek.  The fact that she would do that to me.  The way Jackson will never treat me like a person.  You know how I feel about you now and that should have never happened.  How I’ve been there for every single one of you and no one is ever there for me except Scott.  Everyone is gonna split up soon and I’m gonna be left here alone.  And I guess that’s okay, really, because no one really bothers to help me with what’s going on in my life, so I shouldn’t care that they’re all about to forget me anyway.”

This isn’t about prom, Stiles thinks with a sinking feeling.  And if Derek is the least bit intelligent, that’s what he heard as well.

“You really think that, Stiles?”

“I’ve lived it, Derek.”

“You haven’t even begun to live yet.  For an smart person, you sure are stupid sometimes.”

Stiles glares at Derek.  He realizes how close Derek actually is.  He fidgets and eyes Derek’s hand coming up to his shoulder.  He shivers at Derek’s touch.

“The fact that you’re human keeps us together.  You know how worried we were when you stopped taking calls.  When you locked your window.”  Derek squeezes Stiles’ shoulder.  “It was so hard not to break in, Stiles.  So hard not to just reach in and grab you, shake you senseless.”

Shying away, Stiles folds in on himself.  “Why do you care what happens to me?  You hate me, Derek.”

“You’re wrong.”  Derek’s hand creeps behind Stiles’ neck, his fingers massage his hairline and Stiles wants to scream.  “Lydia meant well.  Jackson is a fucking asshole and he knows it after I beat him senseless.  So expect an apology.  And me?  I would have said yes.”

“Because you felt sorry for me.”

“Because I’m your friend.”

Stiles laughs.  “We are not friends.  Are you kidding me?”

Derek’s face falls.  He slowly takes his hand back and stares at the coffee table.

Something inside Stiles knew it was wrong to say.  Knew he was lying.  And the way Derek turned away confirmed that.  Stiles clears his throat.  “Do _you_ think we’re friends?”

Derek shrugs.  “You are to me.”

“But you’ve never—”

“I shouldn’t have to sing your praises, Stiles, to be your friend.  Is that what you want?”  Derek’s brows lift as does the octave of his voice.  He stands up from the couch to tower over Stiles.  “Sometimes, and yeah it’s selfish, but sometimes I wish you were one of my wolves, so I could keep you forever.  You’re the smartest, the most loyal, the most beautiful person I have ever met and I knew one day you would leave us because you’re better than this.”

Derek loses steam and flops back down.  “But don’t think for one second I’d let you do something stupid like shut us out for no good reason.  Don’t think I’d never pick your life over mine.  And don’t you dare say you aren’t part of this pack, because you might be only human, but you are still so much more than that.  No mere human can do what you do, or has done what you’ve done.  We need you.  I…I need you. So I’m sorry I fucked up your prom.  I didn’t mean to.  I didn’t know.”

Stiles has trouble breathing.  He wants to kiss Derek.  Wants to wrap him up in a hug like no other.  But Derek wouldn’t meet his eyes.  Stiles has to watch as Derek leaves the couch and goes to the kitchen bar.  He has to resist the urge to reach out and beg Derek to come back.

He doesn’t have to wait long.  Because Derek walks back over to him and holds out a thick white packet.  “Which is why I talked to your dad.  It took some work to get him to agree, and I know he’s a proud man, but in the end he knows this is for the best.  I may not have taken you to prom, but I do care about you and I hope this is what it takes to get you to see that.”

Derek seems so earnest as he nods at the envelope.  Stiles takes it with trembling fingers and nearly cries when he sees the UCLA emblem in the corner.  He tears the envelope open, sliding the welcome packet out of the sleeve.  He can’t believe what he’s reading, and after a few pages, everything goes blurry anyway.

He’s going to school.  His dream school.

As soon as Derek sits down, Stiles is on him.  He wraps his arms around Derek’s neck and Derek holds him tight, burying his face in Stiles’ neck.

“I can’t repay this, Derek,” he whimpers.

“You’ve more than paid for it already, Stiles,” Derek whispers back.  “Now help me pick out a house.  There’s no way this pack will survive the dorms without threat of arrest or the building catching fire.”

“What do you mean the pack?”

Derek pulls back.  “Everyone but Lydia and Jackson are going with us.  Boyd and Isaac will attend the nearby community college.  And I have no reason to be here without any of you.”

“You would all move to be with me?”  Stiles’ heart clenches.

“We’d move to be together.  Lydia just had her heart set on the East Coast and wherever she goes Jackson follows.”  Derek thumbs away Stiles’ tears.  “But yeah, what good is the pack without its heart?”

There are no words.  And if Stiles could find any to describe the way Derek made him feel, he’d have them written in the sky.

Stiles lets out a shaky breath and curls into Derek.  They stay that way for a long time until a hoard of rambunctious teenagers trickle into the loft.  Derek doesn’t move except to throw a bunch of brochures and printouts at the pack as they gather round.

No one comments on why Stiles is crying.  None of them act like anything is weird about Derek holding Stiles on the couch.  They order pizza and argue over potential homes near UCLA.  Lydia kisses the top of his head as she goes to get a refill.  Jackson even nods at him like he exists. Stiles rests his head on Derek’s shoulder and closes his eyes.

They do care.  More than that, Derek cares the most. Stiles knows in that moment it’s not lust.  He loves Derek Hale, inside and out.

***

It’s the beginning of his sophomore year at UCLA.  Classes are done for the day, so Stiles takes the scenic route home.  He nears his favorite reading spot, this old wrought iron bench under a giant oak.  Derek is sitting there with a book and two coffees.

The soft evening light twists through Derek’s dark hair and brightens his green eyes when he looks up.  Derek smiles and stands to offer Stiles a coffee.  He puts his tattered paperback in the pocket of his hoodie and takes Stiles’ hand.

“Your hands are freezing.”

Stiles shrugs.  “My professor likes to keep his lecture hall at arctic temperatures.”

Derek nods.  He rubs his fingers against Stiles’ to create heat.  “Have a good day?”

“Yep.  You?”

Derek looks over at him and nods. He smirks.  “Had to hold Boyd off some guy eyeing Erica at lunch.  Isaac got that job serving at the café down the block from us.  I took him to get some new shoes for his shift tomorrow.  Lydia called.  She and Jackson are flying in for three days around Homecoming.  All in all a good day.”

Stiles smiles.  He leans over and kisses Derek’s cheek.  “Homecoming, huh?  Did you know there’s a dance?”

“Is that right?”  Derek twines their fingers together.

“Yeah, but I don’t have a date and it’s kind of pointless to go alone.”  Stiles takes a sip of coffee with a grin.

“That sucks.”  Derek shrugs and Stiles elbows him.

“Fine.”  Stiles halts them in the middle of the sidewalk.  “Derek Hale, would you do me the honor of going to Homecoming with me?”

“Throw in game day tickets and I’ll think about it.”  Derek licks his lip and shows a bit of teeth.

Stiles shakes his head.  “Bastard.”

Derek yanks him close.  “Of course I’ll go.  All you had to do was ask.”

“Yeah,” Stiles drawls.  “I’m learning that.” He closes the gap and kisses Derek.

Because as it turns out, Derek is the guy Stiles thought he was all along.  And Stiles?  He’d finally understood that Derek was right.

He had a lot of living left to do.  And from here on out he didn’t have to live it alone.

Derek kissed him back and tightened his hold on Stiles’ fingers.  He turned them towards the direction of home and started walking, towards the pack waiting on them to make dinner, towards everything they had worked to build together.

Stiles didn’t mind missing prom that one time.

There would always be other dances.

_Fin_


End file.
